


Stiles Stilinski: Actual Fairy Godmother

by LunaLikewell



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Crack, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Here there be dragons, Humor, Knights - Freeform, Lydia Martin: Actual Fairy Godmother, Prince Scott of Beacon upon the Hill, Quests, Sir Allison of Argent, Stiles Stilinski: Actual Fairy Godmother, Who the heck names a dragon Peter anyway?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-01
Updated: 2013-08-01
Packaged: 2017-12-22 01:31:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/907306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaLikewell/pseuds/LunaLikewell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Prince Jackson just informed me that Prince Scott has been kidnapped by a dragon."<br/>"I know," says Danny.<br/>"Are you <i>kidding</i> me!?" shrieks Stiles, flapping in agitated circles. "<i>Why am I always the last one to be told anything?</i>"</p>
<p>Or the one in which Stiles is a Fairy Godmother and Peter is a dragon and Allison is a knight in matte armor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stiles Stilinski: Actual Fairy Godmother

"He was _what!?_ "

Stiles is very good at his job. Not that you'd know it from this particular moment.

"Oh my god," says Crown Prince Jackson mockingly, "You have got to be the worst Fairy Godmother ever. _Danny_ always knows as soon as I'm in trouble."

Stiles raises his tiny fists and flips Jackson off. "We don't just _know_ when something happens, you dipshit-" but then Danny poofs into existence between them. He has impeccable timing, as usual. Stiles lowers his hands and crosses his arms. "Prince Jackson just informed me that Prince Scott has been kidnapped by a dragon."

"I know," says Danny.

"Are you _kidding_ me!?" shrieks Stiles, flapping in agitated circles. " _Why am I always the last one to be told anything?_ "

 

* * *

 

Stiles alights on a large, polished rock in the dragon's cave. He'd expected a dragon's cave to be more...rugged, really. This is all very tidily kept. The rocks walls manage to have a sort of modern minimalist look. The rudimentary furniture in the cell in the corner is sleek, and upholstered in solid colors.

"Stiles! Thank goodness." Prince Scott grins through the bars at him.

"Hey buddy, thought I'd see what I could do about getting you out of here."

Scott gestures at the bars. "Can you magic these away or something?"

Stiles considers it. "Nope."

Scott's shoulders droop and his face takes a step towards "kicked puppy".

"I mean, do you need new shoes or something? I've mostly got going-to-the-ball spells on hand."

Scott gives him the expression that means: "Are you being sarcastic or do you actually think that's relevant." Stiles has been Scott's Fairy Godmother since infancy. He understands Scott's expressions.

"So I was actually thinking," Stiles continues, "that this is more of the kind of situation where someone's supposed to sweep in, rescue you, and slay the dragon."

"Peter."

"Uh, what?"

Scott sighs, "The dragon's name is Peter. He apparently kidnaps royalty because his family died in a fire."

"That doesn't make any-" Stiles shakes his head. "Aren't dragons impervious to fire? And who names a dragon _Peter_ anyway? I mean, Fáfnir, Ancalagon, Smaug, sure. Even Eustace. But _Peter_?”

Prince Scott shrugs.

"Okay, you know what? I'm gonna put an anti-dragon-fire charm on you, and then I'm going to go find some brave knight or something." Stiles stands, stretches, and pulls out his Magic Wand. It's a really nice wand. He had gotten sick of the standard-issue Magic Wand after the third time it had backfired and he had wound up wearing a crown of flowers that he _couldn't take off_ until midnight. He'd since saved up and bought a top-of-the-line Wand. He'd even splurged a little to get it in bright blue.

"Really?" Prince Scott says as Stiles lays the spell, zipping back and forth and around his head. "You can make me fireproof, but you can't get me out of a cell?"

"That's how the magic works, dude, I don't make the rules." Scott rolls his eyes, but lets the glittery glow descend on him. "Alright," Stiles says, floating back to admire his handiwork. Scott looks unchanged. Which is good. With the old Wand, he probably would have had a subtle blue shimmer around the edges until the spell wore off. "I'll be back right around midnight to renew it."

"If you haven't gotten me a rescuer by then."

"Yeah, if that."

 

* * *

 

Sir Allison of Argent had just finished unpacking into her new quarters in the castle of Beacon upon the Hill when she hears the tiny flutter of Fairy Godmother wings.

"Hi Lydia!" She says brightly, backing out of the closet.

"Uh."

Sir Allison spins around to see a tiny man with wings and a red, hooded tunic fluttering in the middle of her room. She narrows her eyes.

"You're not my Fairy Godmother," she says.

"Ah, no. No I'm not." The Fairy extends a tiny hand. "I'm Stiles."

Allison shakes his hand carefully. "Are you... my Fairy God _father_? Lydia never said-"

"You're Lydia's charge? Oh man, I wish, but no. Actually there aren't Fairy Godfathers. I'm just a Fairy Godmother who's a guy. The -mother bit is just part of the title. Like, um, fisherman. You know, female fishermen aren't called fisherwomen, are they?" He says this all very rapidly.

Sinking onto the edge of her bed, Allison asks, "So, then, whose Fairy Godmother are you?"

Stiles draws himself up with pride. " _I_ am Fairy Godmother to Prince Scott of the Kingdom of Twolf, Healer of Small Animals and known throughout the land as The Actually _Nice_ Prince Cause Jeez Jackson’s a Douche."

Allison nods. "I see," she says.

There's a silence.

"And?" she finally adds, when it becomes apparent that Stiles has grown too engrossed in studying her shield - which bears a silver field with crossed black arrows over a purple flower - to remember that they're supposedly having a conversation.

"Ah, right," Stiles turns his back on the insignia. "He's been kidnapped by a dragon."

There's another silence.

"I, uh," Stiles rubs the back of his neck. "You're, like, an a-plus knight, right? You could totally take down a dragon."

"You want me to rescue your Prince."

Stiles beams. "Think of it like a Quest! Uh, scratch that, it _is_ a Quest!" When Allison doesn't answer, he blurts out: "He's handsome, too! Good looks, puppy eyes, memorable jaw line..."

"Okay!" Allison holds up her hands, "Okay, I'll undertake your Quest. Not for his looks, though, jeez, I’m not that shallow. The Knights of Argent have always been sworn to protect the Kingdom of Twolf. It's my duty. Now," she goes to her desk and pulls out some parchment, "Where is he?"

Drawing a map is hard for someone of Stiles's stature, but he does an admirable job, delivering everything he knows about the dragon as he works. Allison gathers up her weapons.and asks relevant questions. Well, except when she blurts out "Wait, who would name a dragon _Peter_?"

Eventually, she shoos him out to so she can change. She's barely gotten her outer tunic off when Lydia appears, sitting atop her quiver, legs crossed daintily. "Word has it you've accepted a Quest."

"Lydia!" Allison greets her Fairy Godmother with a smile.

Lydia tosses the gossamer strands of her hair. "Hello, dear. I figured I'd lend a hand. You don't quite the right gear for a Quest." Allison glances towards her closet, but chooses not to say anything when she sees Lydias lips purse. "You'll have to dress for stealth. True black, then. Lucky it's not high summer!"

Lydia goes into spell-casting mode, so Allison just stands there with her arms outstretched as clothing and leather and sections of chain mail go zipping one way and another until she's fully decked out in a spotless set of matte black leather armor. Her insignia is embossed into the armor. It’s perfectly designed for combat, and is quite stylish, too.

"Perfect," announces Lydia, fluttering in a slow circle around her. "Now you get to go kick dragon ass and take names."

"I already know the dragon's name. It’s Peter."

Lydia frowns. "Who the hell picks _Peter_ for a dragon’s name?"

 

* * *

 

The stealth armor isn’t actually necessary, as the dragon seems reasonable and quite willing to cooperate. At least until Allison mentions her intention to take the Prince with her when she leaves. Then, of course, he goes into a violent rage.

Allison is crouched behind one of those weirdly polished rocks to avoid some dragon-fire when Lydia and Stiles appear. They each bear an oversized arrowhead.

“My own design,” Lydia explains as she and Stiles have their gifts into Allison’s open palm. “They’ll explode upon impact.”

“So don’t drop them,” Stiles adds.

Five minutes later, the dragon is dead. Really, the tales make this kind of thing seem like a much bigger deal. Allison crosses the huge cave to find the Prince.

Prince Scott is pressed up against the bars of his cell, an awe filled expression on his face. “Wow,” he says breathlessly when Sir Allison is finally standing in front of him. “That is- you were- That was _amazing_.”

Sir Allison feels a blush rise up her face, which is fine, since Prince Scott is wearing a blush of his own. She tries not to take note of the fact that he is, indeed, quite handsome. His shirt is charred away in a few places, allowing her glimpses of flesh (kept mercifully uncharred by Stiles’s charm). She drags her eyes back to his, and can’t help but share a smile with him. Bowing low, Allison intones the words she knows she’s supposed to say. “Your Highness, I am Sir Allison of Argent, at your service.”

“And I am at yours, Sir Allison.” The Prince reaches through the bars to urge her back to her feet. “But, ah hey, is there any chance you know how to pick a lock?”

Allison grins and plucks a pin from her hair.

Unseen in a corner of the cave, Stiles offers a high-five to Lydia. She rolls her eyes, but obliges.

 

* * *

 

Once Sir Allison’s Quest armor of true black has been filed away in her closet (between her “dark noir” armor and her “coal black” armor) and Prince Scott has recovered from his ordeal, talk of a wedding begins.

Stiles and Lydia bicker for two solid weeks about the color scheme before Danny steps in and rules that Lydia is “just better at colors” and that Stiles can plan the order of ceremonies instead. They’ve just embarked on a new tussle over flowers (“But they’re poisonous!” “But they’re her family’s symbol _and_ the same shade as the Prince’s cravat!” “But they’re _poisonous_.”) when Scott gives Stiles a look of confusion and says, “But we’re not getting married yet.”

Stiles actually falls out of the air, and Scott has to catch him, which is a complete role reversal and really he should be embarrassed, but his Prince just said that he’s not marrying his Knight in matte armor, who he is also _totally_ in love with.

“We just-” Scott shrugs. “I dunno. We’re in love. Why do we need to have a ceremony for it?”

“Because- because- ARGH!” Stiles throws his arms up in the air, “Planning your wedding is _part of my job description_. Like I can actually pull up my contract and _show you the passage about it_.”

Scott sighs. “Don’t bother. And you will totally plan my wedding when it happens. But Allison only rescued me a few weeks ago. We’re taking things slowly.” A smitten smile crosses his face. “Oh. And King Finstock said that it’s against court protocol for me to get married before the Crown Prince.”

“We’re waiting on Jackson? He’s a douche! Who’s going to marry _him_?”

With a shrug, Scott stands to go. “I mean, he’s pretty attractive, and in line for the throne.”

“No,” Stiles laments, “I’m going to my grave without ever having achieved job satisfaction.” He flings himself dramatically onto his back on the floor as Scott exits. Let someone else tell Lydia about this one. Sheesh.

 

* * *

 

Eventually, another dragon moves into the cave with the bizarre interior decorating.

No one goes to check him out, and he seems to be quite the recluse. The surrounding villagers just shrug and go on with their lives.

They do, however, comment in puzzled tones “Who the heck names a dragon _Derek_?”

 


End file.
